Return to Faldor's Farm
by Farsight020
Summary: Some years after the Mallorean, Farmer Faldor gets some surprise visitors and learns on whose farm exactly the legendary King of Riva grew up.


_This story has been in the works for a while and still remains unfinished. However, I decided to break it into chapters in order to post it more quickly. The next chapter is already halfway written and should continue progressing. I promise that you will see an update within six months. Anyway, this is in memory of David and Leigh Eddings. Now that they are gone, the mantle of storytellers pass to us, that we may illuminate further the wonderful land they created. _

The snow fell thickly around Faldor's Farm when the knock on the door came. It was an early winter storm—the earliest in years, and had been completely unexpected. It was only by some miracle that all the crops had been brought in before it began. Old man Cralto said that it was the biggest storm he had seen in the area since "I were a young lad, no more than knee high". It was the kind of storm that no one should be out in, so it was with great surprise that Farmer Faldor's cook (the one who had replaced Mistress Pol in the kitchen, if not in the hearts and stomachs of the workers of Faldor's farm) opened the door to find a man huddling in a Rivan grey cloak outside the door.

"Come in out of the cold and the snow, neighbor," the cook said, overcoming his surprise, opening the door and gesturing to the warm kitchen.

"My thanks," the man replied, "I would speak to your master, if I may."

"Certainly. I will fetch Farmer Faldor for you." The cook left the room. Shortly, he returned, followed by a graying stocky man whose face was lined by years of hard work and sun.

"Farmer Faldor?" the man in the grey cloak asked.

"I am he," Faldor replied.

"I am Bail, retainer to Belgarion, Overlord of the West. Their Majesties, the King and Queen of Riva, seek shelter from the storm," the grey cloaked man, Bail, informed him.

Faldor collapsed into a chair. "The King and Queen of Riva?" he asked, astonished, "Are you sure?" Shaking himself out of his disbelief, he continued, "Their Majesties are most welcome, though what we can offer is far more humble than that to which they are accustomed, I'm sure."

"You may find yourself surprised, Farmer Faldor," Bail replied, smiling. "I shall convey your welcome to Their Majesties, if you could have someone see to their quarters."

"Yes, yes, of course," Faldor said, "Have they any other retainers? We haven't much extra space, but the barn is quite warm and we could make up beds of straw and blankets there."

"Thank you kindly for your generosity," Bail said, "We travel with a contingent of ten guards who would be most grateful for a warm place to sleep."

"Well, they are all more than welcome to join us for dinner. That includes you as well, of course. It will not be as good as it might have been some years ago, but…" He trailed off, and then said weakly, "I'll just go tell cook that there shall be extras for dinner."

"I shall return to my Master and make him aware of your generosity," Bail said, bowing slightly and taking his leave.

Faldor stared at the door blankly for a moment before he finally caught his breath. "Such exalted company we are having tonight!" he murmured softly before wandering off to find cook and let him know that there would be as thirteen extra for dinner for that evening.

* * *

Not thirty minutes later, there came another knock on the door, to which Faldor himself immediately responded (having been waiting anxiously for it for the entire half hour). Bail stood outside once again, this time with two other figures beside him, one of Faldor's size, and one much smaller, no bigger than a child. Like Bail, they were hooded and cloaked as protection against the inclement weather outside. At Faldor's arrival, the taller one drew back and turned to Bail. "You didn't tell us that this was Faldor's farm, Bail!" he said laughing. He pulled down his hood, revealing the face of a man of about thirty, with sandy blonde hair.

"Garion!" Faldor exclaimed, "Not little Garion!"

"Not so little anymore," Garion replied, laughing. "May we come in?"

"Of course, of course," Faldor replied, stepping to the side, and allowing the three to enter. "Garion, I had not heard that you were serving the King of Riva. You've come quite a long way from a scullery boy at a farm."

Garion cleared his throat, looking nervous. "Further than you may think, Farmer Faldor," he replied, glancing at the shorter cloaked figure beside him that had yet to remove her (or his?) hood, as though he were unsure of what to do.

Faldor continued on as though he hadn't noticed Garion's hesitation. "Don't you think you are of age enough to call me Faldor, Garion? You are hardly a small boy anymore. Where are your Lord and Lady anyway, Garion? Are they yet making their way here? The gods protect them if they are out there in this weather for much longer."

"Garion," the smaller figure spoke for the first time, removing her hood to reveal a red-haired woman who, despite her child-like size, was very clearly full grown. "Tell him, Garion," she commanded imperiously.

Garion cleared his throat again. "Faldor, I'm the King of Riva."


End file.
